Friendship Is Blind
by caynaise
Summary: Marinette wants to make sure her kitty knows how much she appreciates him. Chat Noir needs glasses and spare braincells.


**Don't mind me just shoving a touched-up old S1 fic in here for reasons**

* * *

"Well, I've just about exhausted all possible avenues of reorganisation, but you know best," Marinette sighed, as Tikki booped her nose.

It'd been a week already, and she was still sick, still miserable, and a patrol against the Parisian sunset had never looked so inviting.

Last time Chat Noir had been too busy to come. Now she even missed the akumas, but if Chat weren't so ridiculous, she _might've_ admitted that maybe what—or who—she missed most was her partner.

At least all the sketching and mental rearranging of her room meant she'd gotten up at one point and taken down her pictures of Adrien in a fit of fever-induced inspiration she couldn't remember. If nothing else, it would save her an awkward explanation if she could somehow … if Chat …

An unnecessary thought, but in spite of herself she snuggled into a makeshift blanket cocoon, sat out on the balcony and waited.

In five minutes he was sailing across the sky in silver and black and gold, all business as usual. More business than usual, because it was obvious he was looking for Ladybug, pausing on every few rooftops to scan his surroundings. Marinette waved and called out to him, still hoarse enough that she had to say his name several times before he heard. He immediately vaulted over the building between them, dropping with feline lightness onto the balcony.

"Evening, princess," he said, straightening up only to bend into a sweeping bow. He was grinning in an absent, preoccupied sort of way, eyes on her but only half-seeing her. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Marinette smiled and shook her head in the mix of exasperation and amusement only he could stir up. "I have a message from Ladybug."

"From Ladybug?" He was instantly attentive. "Was she here? We're supposed to patrol tonight, but she hasn't shown. Or called."

"She was here. A little while ago," said Marinette. "She told me to tell you that um, something urgent demanded her attention right away. She looked like she was in a hurry."

"Oh." His face showed relief, then concern. "Is she alright?"

"She says it's nothing to worry about. But she's sorry she bailed on you."

He looked down, hair falling over his eyes. She rarely saw him like this—there wasn't time to hesitate or ponder in the midst of an attack. They could only fight their way out of tight spaces and shout observations across the city, toss infected objects to each other, bid farewell when it was over with a touch of covered fists.

Chat raised his head. "What about you? You haven't been at school, right?"

"I—How do you know that?"

"Oh—uh—well! Word gets around. Your friends were worried about you …" He was so unsure all of a sudden, so disarmingly sweet that any suspicion on her part melted away.

"Well, I'm fine," she said. A tickle in her throat swelled up into coughs. "Perfectly," she added, with difficulty, when they seized her chest and scraped and burned, squeezing tears from her eyes. "Ugh, make it stop!"

She hadn't really meant to yell. Nor did she expect Chat to come forward and scoop her up in his arms and whisk her through the skylight and into her room. She opened her mouth to ask him what he was doing, but all that came out was more coughing.

"Cat got your tongue, huh?" said Chat sympathetically, thumping her on the back. "Don't worry, it's a common affliction. Especially in the presence of this cat." Beaming, he jabbed a thumb at his chest.

"Well, not for long." Face re-emerging from the crook of her elbow, Marinette breathed, drew the blanket snugly around herself with perfect, unfazed serenity.

Chat looked mildly affronted.

"So," she eyed him as he stood restless beside her desk with his arms crossed, tapping his foot, "what are you going to do now?"

"I don't know. I guess I should make the rounds," he said, but if any cat could pull off affection-starved puppy dog eyes it was him.

"Well, I'm sure Ladybug wouldn't begrudge you a little chat with a friend. If that's what you wanted."

He started, green lighting up against black, then put his hand dramatically over his heart. "It would be an honour."

* * *

Chat Noir had always been fond of Marinette. He had to admit they hadn't gotten off to the best start after the whole gum fiasco, but he hoped any hard feelings on her side had dissipated by now. Still, sometimes he had the oddest feeling she was avoiding him.

Only when he was Adrien though. When he was Chat she was warm and quick-minded and assured, and he liked it. She even acted as if they'd been friends long enough for her to be unashamedly casual around him, though he couldn't imagine where she got that impression from.

Adrien was polite. Pleasant. Probably boring. _Chat_ sauntered freely around her room, _too_ freely, poking and prodding with curiosity. Only because Marinette didn't seem opposed to it though, lying on her side on the chaise and watching him with an amused expression until he almost sent her sewing machine flying, at which point he thought it wise to stop. He was in a very silly mood—sillier than usual, even by his standards—and had to throw himself in her swivel chair and coil his arms tightly as a preventative measure.

"Hey, Chat," said Marinette thoughtfully, "what's Ladybug like? We see her on the news, and the Ladyblog, but what's she like to you?"

Ladybug? She wanted to talk about Ladybug? He was delighted, to say the least, after seeing far too little of her for his liking lately. "What can I say? We're a team. She's merciless sometimes, but just between you and me … getting my ass handed to me is a privilege." He winked.

The twitch of Marinette's eye filled him with immeasurable satisfaction.

"She's amazing, you know? And to think that behind that mask is someone just like you and me—someone with a life and a home and dreams and—Well, I guess keeping secrets all the time is a teensy downside." He'd meant it lightly, but all it really did was make him sound pathetic.

He couldn't fathom the look she was giving him. Was it judgement? Sympathy? "Doesn't she want to know you too?"

The back of his neck itched. He fought the urge to scratch it. "Well, I hope so. But alas, duty calls." Honestly, no matter how much or little his Lady thought of him outside the suit, he was glad just to be by her side. He loved her the way she was, graceful and daring and fiercely independent.

"I'm sure she cares a lot about you."

He blinked. Where had that come from? But Marinette was being nice, and he'd be damned if he didn't appreciate it. "Thanks, Marinette."

"Do you remember when you fought Timebreaker?" she asked. "I was there. At the race."

"Oh yeah, she really threw us for a loop." He chuckled. "I've never met anyone in more dire need of a break, did you see how ticked off she was? You'd think she'd invest in a brake too with how fast she was going, but hey, I guess she gets wound up if she's slow."

"Don't you, kitty?" was Marinette's innocent response. "Running out of steam with a beeping miraculous would be _terrible_."

He held up his hands. "The lady makes a speedy point."

She wouldn't relent though, serious-eyed, strangely intent on her mission. "When you took that hit for Ladybug, she was … really upset, you know. And angry."

"She was? At me?"

"No! No. At Timebreaker. Or Hawkmoth, I guess."

"Oh." He'd been pretty rash that day, he knew—but no more than usual. Chat didn't stand a chance against akumas without Ladybug. Still, the fact _Marinette_ was telling him this was odd. It must have shown on his face, because she immediately thought she'd said too much.

"I mean, I don't know her, of course. How could I?" she said, all nervous giggles and waving hands. "I just think because you fight so well together, you must be very close. She must really trust you. It's—it's just a feeling I have, watching the two of you."

Just a feeling she had … He often wondered what other people saw, really saw, in his and Ladybug's partnership, beyond the flashy suits and action. "And you? Is there anyone you trust like that?"

She looked so troubled by his question that he panicked and tried to take it back.

"Sorry, if it's too personal—"

"There is, actually." Absently, her fingers twirled a pigtail. "It's funny. We don't even know each other that well. But I would trust him with my life. I would trust him with the entire world."

He didn't know what to say to a confession like that. "That sounds nice."

"Yeah." Her eyes met his, and she smiled an honest smile that brimmed with gladness, and whispered of more than he could comprehend.


End file.
